Sadie's Hendriten

So as not to slack off in her studies over the summer, Sadie decided to write a short story one day. Here it is:

In case you can’t decipher the handwriting or the spelling, it reads: “Butterflies lay eggs and they die.” As a writer, I admire that she didn’t choose the traditional “happily every after" ending. It’s a bit unexpected. I like it. And she included some nice illustrations. Although I question what that axe-looking thing is on the left. I digress . . .

Upon discovering this lovely short story earlier this week, both my mother and husband commended Sadie on her storytelling abilities but told her that her handwriting had room for improvement. Reportedly, one of them even called her handwriting “terrible.” She promptly stormed off to her room in a huff. She appeared moments later with this written declaration, which she handed to them in silence.

Again, if you have trouble deciphering it, it reads: “Call my handwriting terrible.” I can only assume she meant to include a giant, sassy question mark at the end.

When I asked her later about the illustration below, she explained that it was a drawing of her turning her back on Ne-Ne and Papa for making fun of her handwriting. She also informed me that from now on she will only be writing in “fancy” (ie cursive) which means putting curly things on every letter. She added that since summer is almost over and I have not taught her “fancy writing”, that I owe her one dollar. Seems fair.

I can hardly wait for 2^nd grade.  

Sadie and the iPhone: A Love Story

Sadie is a huge iPhone fan. I have the peanut butter smears and dried milk crust on my screen to prove it. She’s crazy about the thing. She once spent 20 minutes trying to guess my iTunes password so she could download her own apps. When she guessed it correctly, I rewarded her with the Talking Tomcat app. She now resets my password so often that I can never buy any music without consulting her first. StinkButt. DexterBeast, PrincessSadie. The list goes on and on. And most of them are spelled incorrectly which really helps streamline the whole process ;)

He favorite app of all time is called 5-0 Radio. It’s an international police scanner. He favorite feed is Detroit Fire and EMS. Very kid friendly . . . not. She is a bit underwhelmed by it though and thinks it’s sorta “stupid” that it doesn’t have a live video feed with it so you can “watch he cops, too.” Like any love affair, she often gets frustrated with the iPhone and yells out things like “How come this phone doesn’t have night vision?” and “Why can’t it record videos? We need to put a video on YouTube.” She also enjoys texting random people on my text list. So, if you ever receive a text with every word Capitalized.   And.   With.   A.   Period.   And.   A.   Few.   Spaces.   After.   Each.   Word.   Like.  This., it’s from her.

Now, I need to give you little backstory before I move on to her favorite iPhone feature. A few months back, Sadie had to have four teeth extracted, four root canals and several fillings, divided between two visits. She was petrified. If you said the word "dentist", she would burst out into tears. On top of that, she is too old to be fully sedated in the office, so she could only get laughing gas and Novocain. Two hours after the first visit, with gobs of gauze in her moth and tears in her eyes, she walked out of the office and got in the car. We asked her if she wanted to go to the toy store for a treat. She mumbled something, rolled her eyes and grabbed my iPhone. She typed furiously then handed the phone back. Here’s a screen grab of her note.

For those of you who can’t read first-grade words phonetically, that’s “I can’t talk.”

 Anyway, not to end the story on a sad note, you should know that she decided she loves going to the dentist, couldn’t wait to go back and have the rest of her teeth fixed and now proudly shows off her four silver teeth to any stranger who is willing to peer into her open mouth. This morning she asked if she could go back to the dentist again soon. Must be laughing gas talking. 

We should live in Hollywood.

I should really let Sadie's words and drawings tell you the story of our trip to California last month. In her own words:

1 - The best part of the entire vacation was: "stealing shampoo off the maid's cart."

2 - The traffic was terrible because: "everyone is driving in the same direction to get to their tv shows."

3 - The hot tub: "is awesome, we really need to get one at home." 

On the plane on the way back to Detroit, she got out her crayons and drew a picture. When she was done, I asked her to tell me about it: "This is me in the pool in a floaty. That's you in the hot tub and that red thing is a big glass of red wine for you." Mind you, I drank plenty of wine but never in the hot tub. Which leads me to the only logical conclusion: she can now read my mind and knows exactly what I'm thinking and wishing for. 

I think that about sums up our trip. Stay tuned as next time I plan to share with you an exhaustive list I have been keeping for about 2 years called, "Shit Sadie Says". It promises not to disappoint. 

P.S. Here's a photo from inside the spa at the Fairmont Miramar in Santa Monica, where Sadie went in the sauna (but not the steam room - "there's a naked lady in there") and drank water directly from the chilled carafe. 

I am for sure going to Hell for this one.

Last night, Sadie picks up my new US magazine and starts reading the cover. "How We Feel Back In Love.", "Inside His Bedroom", "Back On", and "I Feel Better." So far so good. Then she notices the little girls in the main photo and says, "Look at that cute baby, wearing her Mrs. Potato Head glasses." I laughed so hard, red wine almost shot out of my nose. I know, I know, I'm going to Hell for this . . . among other things.

I am not going to California!

So Kris is in LA on a truck shoot for at least three weeks. He suggested that Sadie and I come out to visit for a couple days. At first I thought, no way, flights will be outrageously expensive. But a non-stop Delta flight was just a little over $300 so I booked it. 4 nights in Santa Monica at the Fairmont Miramar. Sunny, warm LA. What's not to like?

I'm so thrilled, I tell Sadie right away. She's beyond excited about the idea of going to Hollywood, but seems to be lukewarm when I call it California. I'm pretty sure she's imagining sleeping in a hotel that's conveniently located inside the "O" in the Hollywood sign, which of course, you can't even see from Santa Monica. She suggests we "Google" the hotel to see what it looks like. I show her photos of the fancy rooms, the nice pool, the ocean view. Her first question: "Does this hotel have bedbugs? Because if it does, I'm not going!" She's been obsessed with bedbugs since New Year's Eve when we heard a news story about "the most googled words of 2010". One of which was "bedbugs." Since then, she has drawn several bedbugs in creepy detail, and made me research which cities have bedbug problems. She has an elaborate ongoing list of cities with color-coded checks and x's.

Next, she suggests we call Kris to find out what the weather is like. He tells her it's sunny and warm every day. Naturally, her next question is: "Do they have arctic foxes out in Hollywood? WHAT? NO? How about penguins? Snow owls? They don't have any animals out there?" It's obvious that she's seriously starting to doubt the fun-factor of this trip.

A few days later when I remind her that Kris is LA and we will be visiting him soon, she says, "I wish it was you working in Hollywood and Papa was back here at home with me." Since then, she has only had a few other questions and concerns:

"Kids can be in movies, right? How many movies am I going to be in when we go to Hollywood?"

"Do they have any not-fancy restaurants in Hollywood? Because you know I don't like putting my napkin in my lap."

"I might move to a different part of the airplane so I don't have to sit by you again."

"Which pet are we bringing to Hollywood with us? The cat or one of the dogs? They do let you bring your pet to the hotel you know."

"What? The sun only sets on that ocean? Boring! It should rise and set on that ocean."

Man, I can hardly wait for this trip!

I never claimed to be a role model.

Sadie and I went to Somerset on Sunday with my friend Susan. The best way to take a child shopping is to bribe him or her with a trip to a store like The Lego Store or Build-a-Bear. Since Susan is NOT a big "kid-person", I decided to bribe Sadie with a trip to both stores.

Let me start by saying that I love to buy nice things and I love to save money. I was armed with my "$10 off any Build-a-Bear purchase" coupon as well as the $10 gift card I had paid $5 for before Christmas. We entered the Build-a-Bear store. We perused the clothing section and decided on a nice pink skirt, pink sequin shoes and a pink shirt with the Eiffel Tower (Sadie's favorite) on it. Cut to the check out line. I'm almost giddy when the clerk tells me my total: 67 cents. She asks if I would like to make a donation to some charity, maybe it was a Children's Literacy Foundation or something. I say, "No thanks" and dig around for the 67 cents in my wallet. I smile, grab my bag and turn to leave.

Sadie reaches in her purse, pulls out a $5 bill and tells the clerk that she would like too make a donation to the kid's charity. The lady has to ask another associate how to ring in a donation without a purchase. I stand there dumbfounded. Clearly, I am the worst role model in the entire universe. Sadie gladly hands over her $5 and we walk out.

What's that they say about a teachable moment? Guess I have a lot to learn.

Worst New Year's Ever

It was New Year's Eve. We promised Sadie she could stay up to "watch the ball drop." Kris was out cold by 11pm, thanks to NyQuil. Junior had been asleep since about 9 pm. My eyelids were as heavy as a before picture. The ball drops. Sadie and I scream, "Happy New Year!" to each other and give each other a kiss. Minutes later, I turn off the tv and announce that it's bedtime. Outraged, Sadie yells, "What? Where are all the balloons and noiseblowers? I thought we were having a big party!" When I tell her that she should feel lucky that she was allowed to stay up until midnight while most other kids have been in bed for hours, she loudly announces, "This is the worst New Year's EVER!" She says it over and over and over again. Deflated, she finally goes to sleep.

The next night at bedtime, she shows me her diary, a tiny Hello Kitty notebook with the word "diary" written on a sticky note on the cover. She tells me that I can never read her diary, "It's private. It has all my secrets in it." Seconds later, she opens it and offers to read it to me. She points to a drawing of a tall stick figure next to a short stick figure. The tall stick figure has a talk bubble that reads, "Go to bed Sadie!" She then reads me that day's entry: "January 1, 2011. Worst New Year's Ever!"

Guess it can only get better from here. Stay tuned . . .